Jaws and Keyboard Therapy
by Pointy Objects
Summary: I should start charging by the hour, but I genuinely think I would bankrupt her. And friends really shouldn't bankrupt each other, or so I'm told.


Jaws and Keyboard Therapy

By: Pointy Objects

* * *

"I've decided: I'm putting bricks in my pockets and walking to Elk Island."

"Elk Island is…an _island_."

"Exactly."

"You're not doing that."

"Oh, yes I am."

" _No_. You're not." This was not the first time she made threats like this. If it wasn't a pocket full of rocks, it was fashioning a guillotine out of our meager supply of kitchen appliances. Or drinking nine gallons of water at once, which I didn't know was fatal until she told me. For someone who spent most of their twenties as a recluse, my best friend certainly had a flair for the dramatic. "You just bought that skirt, and I know how delighted you were when you found out it had pockets. I doubt you're going to ruin a perfectly good garment by filling them with bricks."

"Well, prepared to have your doubts shattered. And what does it matter anyway? Tomorrow, I'll have to go into my dead-end job, anyway, knowing that I completely and irrevocably bombed my one opportunity to get out of it."

I release a sigh, and turn my back to her. Not because I'm angry; I understand entirely the overwhelming emotions that come with a job interview that rattles the nerves. But, I have little time for theatrics, even if they're coming from my second-favorite person in the world.

"First of all, this is not your only opportunity to get out of your job. Just keep looking. You're allowing one setback to throw you off completely, and that is not the Helga that I know…"

She doesn't say anything in response to this, because she's fully aware that I know her better than any other living soul, and I'm equipped to use what intel I've gathered in our long (and sometimes exhausting) friendship against her. Moving to our shared refrigerator, I pull from the freezer a half-full pint of ice cream and begin looking for a clean spoon in the cutlery/random objects drawer next to it. "And second, I need to borrow that skirt for my date next week."

"You're going out tonight, and you already have your date planned for next week? You two are a bunch of freaks," she said, curling her feet under her on our weathered, brown couch. My best friend is now clad only in the black, button-down blouse that she wore on her interview and her underwear. The yellow, white and black striped skirt (with pockets!) in question, has been haphazardly thrown over the opposite side of the couch. "Let me guess, another fusion restaurant?"

"Hawaiian and Asian." I tell her happily, carrying the ice cream and utensil into the living room, which is really just the portion of our tiny apartment where the couch sits.

"Freaks," she answers, pulling a blanket over her lower half. "What are you doing?' she asks when I sit the confection in front of her, and reach for the laptop, plugged in behind the couch. I place that on the coffee table as well, and plant my hands on my hips, readying myself for the fight.

"I'm going on my date. And you…are using the rest of the evening to finish this ice cream. And write."

As expected, Helga's arms fly together dramatically as she huffs, throwing her version of a tantrum. "I don't want to."

"Yes you do. You've got words flying around in that head of yours, and there will be no peace around here until you get them out." She knows I'm right, and I declare this a victory as she subtley adjusts her sitting position to one where she can balance the laptop on her thighs, even though she hasn't touched it yet.

"I don't feel like writing. I'm going to watch 'Jaws' again."

"And I'm the "Freak" in this friendship..."

"You _are_. And, you know it makes me feel better."

"It's a movie about a shark terrorizing a beach town!"

"'Terrorizing' is such a strong word…"

"It ate a child!"

"His name is Bruce, and he _allegedly_ ate a child…"

I move my handbag to my left shoulder, admitting defeat. "I'm going to be late. I'll read what whatever you've written when I get home. All three drafts."

"Tell Tall Hair Boy I said 'hello'," she calls once I reach the door. I wave a hand over my head before shutting the door behind me. Once the door is locked, I wait the span of a heartbeat, before pressing my ear against the door.

As soon as I hear the telltale clicking of keyboard keys, I know it's safe to leave.

* * *

A/N: Today, in the life of Pointy Objects, I:

\- Put on a brand new skirt (with pockets!)

\- Wore said skirt to an interview

\- Bombed said interview

\- Walked, in heels, in the rain, back to her car

\- Got called a "heartbreaker" and was told that the Devil currently resides in Washington D.C. (Don't ask)

\- Schelpped back to her job like a fool. A fool in a new skirt.

Genuinely, the only bright things about today are the new skirt (which I look pretty darn good in, if I do say so myself. Which I do. Because I heard myself say it), I just got the email notification that my online order has been delivered to my house, and my husband and a fellow writer both told me, "Hey! Even though you feel awful, you should write about it!" And it worked. Also, there's a half pint of ice cream waiting for me at home. And I might 'Jaws' again today. So, yeah. There's that.

Thanks guys!

-PointyObjects


End file.
